Sing Me Anything
by CharWright5
Summary: Being dragged to a James Diamond concert isn't Kendall Knight's idea of fun. But all that changed in a heartbeat with one simple look. AU oneshot, BTR never existed and some of the guys aren't friends. Rated for language and a couple references to violence.


_**A/N:** Just a quick li'l oneshot that seemed to come outta nowhere. May or may not be a sequel, I'm not sure. Depends on the reaction to this. Title from Straylight Run's "Existentialism on Prom Night"._

* * *

The incessant banging at his bedroom door was gonna give Kendall Knight a headache. And considering how his night was gonna go, that was the last thing he needed. Although that being said, he'd probably end up with a migraine before the night was through.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist, barely having time to dry himself as he padded his way through to his bedroom and towards the door. He was dripping on the carpet, but he honestly didn't care at that moment. He knew exactly who was doing the pounding and if he didn't answer anytime soon, it was only gonna get worse.

Opening the door, he found that he was right, that it was exactly who he predicted it would be. Not that it wasn't completely obvious. Carlos Garcia was the only person he know who would beat down a door like that.

"Hey, buddy!" the short Latino boy greeted him cheerfully, dark eyes lit up, huge smile on his face. He was practically bouncing in place, reminding the dirty blond haired male of a bunny rabbit on a sugar rush. "You ready to go?"

Kendall raised a full eyebrow, wondering if his friend was for real. He was standing there, dripping wet, in a towel. He clearly wasn't ready. "You're kidding, right?"

Carlos finally dropped his eyes, finally registered what his friend was wearing—or rather _not _wearing as was the case. "Oh! Well, hurry up!"

The blond rolled his green eyes, walking away from the door and heading to his closet. "Like it's my fault you're early."

"What? I'm excited!"

Another eye roll as he grabbed a pair of dark jeans, tossing them on the bed. "Can't imagine why," he muttered sarcastically.

"Seriously?"

Kendall turned to see the confusion on his best friend's face, resisting another eyeroll. He loved Carlos to death, the two having grown up together and practically feeling like brothers, but the guy wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. And yeah, slow and steady wins the race, but most of the time, the Latino got lost before he even found the starting line. His ADD would kick in, his short attention span getting the best of him, reminding Kendall of Dori from "Finding Nemo".

"No," the blond replied flatly. "I'm fully aware of this bullshit that you're dragging me to."

Carlos let out a gasp, hands flying up, shock and disbelief on his face. This time, Kendall gave in to the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd dissed the "great" James Diamond. In fact, he did it on a near daily basis, anytime Carlos or his younger sister Katie brought the pop star up. Okay, he stopped making fun when Katie brought him up, but only because he was sick of getting punched in the gut or kicked in the shin. For a lil thing, she had a hell of a punch.

But despite making it fully known that he hated the douche and his cheesy ass pop music, he was still being dragged to his show in St. Paul, at Carlos' request. As well as Carlos' puppy dog eyes, begs, pleads, and promises that he most likely wouldn't follow through for no other reason than he'd forget. It went without saying that Kendall wasn't stoked about it, that he'd rather have a root canal, vasectomy, and his eardrums stabbed all at the same time, all without anesthetic or any numbing medication. He hated pop music. Give him Metallica, Atreyu, or Avenged Sevenfold any day.

"I can't believe you'd say that about _James_!" Carlos practically squealed, Kendall shaking his head in his own form of disbelief, mostly at the use of the singer's first name only, like he and Carlos went way back and were best buds of their own.

"Don't know why," the blond muttered as he reached into his closet, pulling out a black Dethklok t-shirt and tossing it on his bed by his jeans. "Not like I've kept it a secret as to how I feel about that fairy."

"He's not a fairy!" the Latino protested, arms folded over his chest, pout on his face. "He's an amazing, talented, super hot singer with the pipes of an angel and these hips that I swear are designed to torment all of us."

_Oh, fuck, here it comes,_ Kendall thought to himself as he headed to his dresser, pulling open the top drawer. He knew his best friend's penchant for going on and on about the singer, how he'd spend hours just blabbering away about various songs, lyrics, dance moves, music videos, what-the-fuck-ever, unless Kendall distracted him with a subject change. Even telling him flat out to shut the fuck up wouldn't work.

"By the end of the night, you'll love him!"

Kendall snorted, grabbing the first pair of boxer-briefs he could find, tossing them to the bed with the rest of his outfit. "Yeah, sure, 'Litos."

"You will! James has got some catchy songs, not to mention some damn good dance moves. You should see the way the guy shakes his hips on stage."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say any of that," Kendall commented, face scrunched up in disgust as he grabbed a pair of socks, unbundling them.

"What? It's true," Carlos stated, not seeming phased at all by his best friend's obvious disgust, his happy go lucky attitude still there. "I've seen videos on YouTube of him live and the way his hips move, the hip thrusts? Man, I'm getting hard just _thinking_ about it."

The blond slid his drawer shut, the grossed out look on his face growing, letting out an audible "ew!" It wasn't that Kendall had issues with his best guy friend finding other males attractive. Would make him pretty hypocritical if that were the case, considering the fact that he himself was gay. It was the fact that his best guy friend found some douchebag pop star attractive, that he was telling the blond about the boners this guy induced, info Kendall clearly didn't need to know. Ever.

"I'm sure when you go to the show, you'll think he's hot, too. Especially with the hip thrusts and ass shakes and the way he gets all sweaty and shoves his hair back like that-"

"'Litos!" Kendall interrupted, turning his head to his best friend. "Dude! You can shut up."

"Why? Kendall getting turned on?" the smaller boy asked, eyebrows wiggling, smirk on his face.

The elder male snorted, rolling his green eyes for the upteenth time in the past five minutes. "Yeah fucking right. Talk to me about a guy with tats, piercings, and a guitar, _then_ I'll get turned on. Goody goody pop stars aren't my thing." He turned and walked to his bed, dropping his socks before grabbing his boxer-briefs.

"Whatever. That'll change when you see this guy, trust me."

He turned and looked at the younger male. "Last time you told me to trust you, I wound up in the hospital with a broken arm, concussion, and sixteen stitches in various parts of my body."

"Yeah, but it was fun."

A smirk played on Kendall's lips as he tilted his head from side to side, conceding the point. "True. But I have a feeling you'll be wrong about this one, 'Litos."

"And I have a feeling I won't be. Just keep an open mind, be positive about this whole thing."

"I am. I'm positive tonight will suck and that I'll spend the whole time wishing I was being slammed into the boards by an entire hockey team worth of Zdeno Chara's," Kendall stated, referring to the seven-foot tall Boston Bruins defenseman.

Carlos let out a sigh, a mix of frustration that his best friend wasn't just going along with what he was saying and sadness that he was the only one having a fangirl moment. Whatever. That was the Latino's deal. It had nothing to do with Kendall.

The blond turned back around, slipping his boxer-briefs on under his towel. The two may have been on the same hockey team, being forced to shower together with the rest of their team, but it didn't mean Kendall wanted to be naked around the other guy all the time. It wasn't easy getting the clothing item on, considering he was still a little wet, and he had to wiggle his hips to get them all the way up, but he still managed.

"Quit being such a Negative Nancy."

Unwrapping the towel from his waist, Kendall turned and looked at his friend, eyebrow raised in question. "Did you seriously just call me 'Negative Nancy'?"

"Would you prefer 'Mr. Grumpy Gills'?" There were those "Finding Nemo" references again.

"I'd prefer to be left alone to hang out in my room by myself, listening to actually _good_ music, and not be dragged to this shit," he commented, drying his arms and torso off with the towel.

Carlos humped, arms folded over his chest once again. "Well, I'm gonna have fun and I'm not gonna let any of your negative shit stop me."

"Just be glad you even get to go," came a female voice from his doorway.

Kendall turned his head to see his younger sister Katie standing there, arms folded over her own chest, scowl on her face. Which was kinda weird for her to be upset over the fact that he was going to that crap concert when she couldn't. See, Katie Knight didn't fangirl. She just didn't have it in her. Kendall always joked that she was wired wrong, that she actually wasn't a preteenage girl. She never drooled over any teen heartthrobs, bought money magazines instead of Pop Tiger or shit like that, always had the financial channels on rather than any of those teeny networks. She was like a middle aged stock broker in a tiny girl body.

But when it came to James Diamond, shit was different. All of a sudden, she was impossible to shut up, unable to stop the squeals and the rambles, much like Carlos. She'd constantly go on about this song or that, about those same dance moves Carlos had commented on earlier—which made Kendall believe that she shouldn't be going to that show, since it didn't entirely sound appropriate for an eleven year old to be watching ass shaking and hip thrusting. She also became incredibly defensive about the pop star, even going so far as to beat the shit out of her brother who was pretty much twice as tall and had about eighty or so pounds on her.

So when she found out Kendall was being dragged to James Diamond's lone Minnesota show, she started screaming about how unfair it was, an overdramatic rant during dinner about how her life sucks and how nothing good ever happens to her—a rant both Kendall and his mom attributed to the fact that she was eleven and a girl and therefore prone to overreactions. And the blond had tried convincing his mom to let Carlos take Katie instead, but Mama Knight had killed that idea immediately, stating she'd feel better knowing that her youngest child was in the hands of a responsible adult, no offense to Carlos. So Kendall was stuck going to the show, Katie stuck being at home, neither Knight child happy about it.

"I swear," she started, pointing a finger at her older brother, that scowl still there, "If you get picked to go onstage, I won't be responsible for what I do to you when you get home."

Kendall raised an eyebrow once more, towel drying his hair. "Say what now?"

Carlos turned to his best friend, that gleam back in his eye as he bounced and rambled excitedly once more. "Yeah, during one of his songs, he goes into the audience, singing to the crowd, and at the end he picks someone to go onstage so he can sing to them personally, holding their hand, rubbing their back, kissing their cheek, all that stuff. And it's a slow love song, too, so sweet and so amazing!" The Latino paused to sigh dreamily, before his face fell. "Too bad he only ever picks girls to go onstage with him."

"Surprising really," Kendall muttered before talking at a normal volume. "You'd think a fairy like him would pick a guy to sing a love song to." He smirked as he tossed his towel in the general direction of his hamper.

"One more gay joke and you won't be able to have kids," Katie glared.

Kendall held his hands up in innocence, turning his body slightly to grab his jeans and slip them on. Another hip wiggle as he pulled them up, buttoning and zipping them.

The preteen turned to the Latino, handing money over and discussing what merch she wants him to pick up as Kendall finished getting dressed, throwing on his t-shirt, before pulling on his socks and Vans sneakers. Ignoring the two in his room and their fangirling, he headed to his bathroom, putting on his deodorant, before combing his hair—a style that could only be described as a dead mohawk laying on its side.

Going back into his room, he grabbed his wallet, iPhone, and keys, turning to see the two of them still talking. "Can we get this over with?" he interrupted, arms out to the side before folding them over his lean chest. "Sooner we leave, the sooner this is over."

Katie and Carlos both rolled their eyes, finding it hard to believe the blond wasn't excited over what was about to happen.

"All right, man," the Latino commented before turning back to Katie, making a promise to call her during her favorite song so she could hear it. She said her goodbyes to the two guys as they walked out, Kendall shutting his bedroom door behind himself, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. Tonight was gonna suck, he just knew it.

Traffic was fine until they got closer to Xcel Energy Arena, everything slowing to a near crawl as they waited to get into the parking lot. It wasn't too bad there, Kendall able to find a good spot, years of coming here for Wild games helping the blond out.

He followed a bouncing Carlos towards the line for the doors, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, Vans scuffing the ground as he walked. The Latino started a conversation with a couple teenage girls in front of them, the blond male staying out of it, having nothing to contribute, not to mention the fact that he didn't give a shit.

The doors opened a short time later, Kendall handing the tickets over to be scanned before his best friend dragged him to the merch line. The main lobby was crowded as hell, giving the blond male a taste of what was to come, with all the loud chattering girls, most of whom looked to be teenagers at the oldest. He looked around as he stood in the mob that was around the merch booth, finding one other guy. Who was clearly a dad, judging by the grey hair and the polo shirt, not to mention the fact he was holding the hands of two young girls. At least Kendall hoped he was a dad and not some perve hoping to win the affections of some lil kid by taking her to this concert. Fucking creeper.

Ten minutes later, Carlos' merch—and whatever Katie had requested—was purchased, all stored in a messenger bag Carlos had bought at the booth, the two teenage guys then heading to the main part of the arena to find their seats on the floor level. The Latino started bouncing again, not seeming to care that they were stuck towards the back, only focusing on the fact that they had aisle seats, blabbering on about how he hoped to grab hold of James' sweaty arm when he walked past during one of his songs.

Which was really fucking gross sounding in Kendall's opinion.

He slumped in his seat, arms folded over his chest, legs splayed. Looking around, he seemed to be the only one not stoked on the show that was about to start. Well, he was sure there were some parents who'd been dragged along with their young kids, but he couldn't see any of them. Especially considering most of the kids and teens around him were standing, despite the fact that the opening act wasn't even about to start for another hour or so.

It was gonna be a long fucking night.

The opening act came and went, Carlos bobbing along to the songs in his seat, singing to the one tune that had been playing on the radio. At least Kendall assumed that's how his friend knew it. He himself tended not to listen to the top 40 station, if he ever bothered with the radio. His favorite bands usually didn't get a whole lotta airplay, even on the rock station his car was tuned to. Thank fuck for iTunes.

The two friends made conversation as the stage was changed, a giant black curtain coming down to hide the set. The sounds of drums and guitars being checked came through the PA, causing fangirls to squeal, but Kendall knew better. It would still be a little while before the show started.

When the houselights finally did go out and the spotlights swirled across the black curtain, the arena went nuts. Kendall cringed against the deafening noise, halfway certain that he'd lose his hearing before the end of the night. It was one thing to blast screaming death metal in his headphones. It was a totally different thing to hear the screams of a thousand tweenage fangirls.

It got worse when the curtain dropped, when the singer made an appearance at the back of the set on top of a high rise. Even more screams sounded out when the singing started, including some from Kendall's right, where Carlos was now on his feet, shaking his hips to the beat, fist in the air.

The blond rolled his eyes, smearing a hand over his face before refolding his arms. He was the only one still seated, and it was gonna remain that way.

At least it would have, had Carlos not grabbed his arm and dragged him up.

But Kendall still wasn't happy, still kept his arms folded, still kept that scowl on his face. For the first song anyway. He told himself his arms were getting stiff in that position, that's why he dropped them. He told himself that the drummer was really good, that the guitarist was really talented, that's why his foot was tapping. He told himself he was shifting his weight from foot to foot, not dancing. He told himself that James Diamond was, in fact, an unattractive fairy that definitely wasn't his type. Repeatedly.

And he still didn't believe himself.

Well, the part about Diamond not being his type was true. Kendall tended to go for rock guys, his celeb crushes being more of Jared Leto of 30 Seconds to Mars, Jordan Buckley of Every Time I Die, Joe Brown of A Static Lullaby. Guys with tattoos. Guys with piercings. Guys who played in rock bands, who played guitar, who screamed their fucking lungs out. He definitely didn't go for clean cut, goody goody pop guys.

Although there was definitely nothing goody goody about the way Diamond was swinging those hips during that song.

And that's what Kendall used to rationalize his attraction to the guy. It was the way he moved in such a sexual way, the hip shaking, the thrusting, the grinding with the female backing dancers. It was the way his voice sounded, how he hit those high notes, the runs he went on, the way he put his heart and soul into every word and line. And maybe it was a little bit about how his cheeks were now flushed red, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, all reminding Kendall of how long it'd been since he'd gotten laid. Jacking off in the shower only went so far to satisfy teenage hormones.

Watching physically attractive pop stars get sweaty as they thrusted their hips didn't help shit either.

About half an hour into the show, Carlos grabbed hold of Kendall's arm, shaking it excitedly, fingers digging into the pale skin. "This is it!" he squealed, dark eyes sparkling with excitement, even in the low light. "This is where he goes into the crowd!"

The blond didn't even bother questioning how the Latino could possibly know that, figuring there were setlists online somewhere, that fangirls got together to chat and squeal and keysmash with one another over the concert, sharing stories and pictures and "OMG I CAN'T EVEN"s. Instead, he just pried his best friend's fingers off, rubbing his arm and wondering if he'd end up bruised.

But as Carlos predicted, the singer climbed down from the stage and over the safety railing, heading down the aisle the Latino was next to as he sang the next song. Kendall watched, transfixed as the singer shook hands with the fans, as one girl pulled him into a hug. The security guard tailing him didn't seem too stoked on it, but the singer's laugh was clearly audible over the PA as he hugged the young girl back.

Kendall couldn't look away, his heart pounding, stomach clenching as the singer drew closer. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him, why he was reacting that way. His chest was tight, hands clammy, like he was having a panic attack. If he didn't know any better, he'd actually think he was excited about Diamond getting closer, hopeful that he'd get picked.

Yeah fucking right.

But still, there was something undeniable about the singer, something that drew people in. It was probably why he was so popular, why he was such a huge act, why he was able to sell out an arena the size of Xcel Energy Center. He was the flame, everyone else a moth. They were all just being sucked in to their doom, all of them okay with it like lemmings jumping over a cliff.

Diamond turned around about seven rows away, eyes meeting Kendall's. The blond sucked in harshly, breath stopping in his lungs, heart no longer pumping blood. It was the strangest fucking thing, an intense feeling of...well, he didn't know what, but it was definitely not something he'd felt before. All he knew was that he wanted to walk right over there to the other male, grab his hand, and take off to parts unknown. And judging by the look of awe on the singer's face, by the fact that no words were being sung, despite the crowd still singing, it seemed like Diamond was feeling it as well.

Good, at least Kendall wasn't nuts.

The security guard nudged the pop star in the back, the singer snapping out of it. He turned away from Kendall, huge smile forming on his face as he turned to the next fan, singing once again. Acting like nothing had happened.

Kendall was confused, wondering what the fuck had just happened, his heart and lungs starting back up once those dark eyes were no longer trained on him. He shook his head to snap out of it himself, smearing a hand over his face as he tried to wipe away the previous feelings.

_It was nothing,_ he told himself, _not a big deal. You're overreacting._

He wasn't convinced.

Diamond made his way closer, Kendall's heart pounding faster, lungs struggling to draw in air. His only saving grace was that Carlos was totally oblivious, more focused on the singer, just like everyone else was in the place. The small Latino was too busy bouncing and singing, hand reaching out to shake his idol's as the pop star got within a few feet.

And as his best friend finally got to shake the singer's hand like he always wanted, Kendall's eyes met the pop star's again. And the reaction was exactly like before, only worse. He could actually see the exact shade of red his cheeks were, see those droplets of sweat as they beaded on his skin, dripping down onto the black v-neck the star had on. He could see the hazel of his eyes, see the impossibly long eyelashes, see the tongue that snaked out to wet dry lips.

James pulled the mike away from his face, not needing to sing at that moment. And with his eyes still locked on Kendall's, he reached his hand out to the blond. The teenager didn't even think about it, didn't hesitate, just slid his own calloused hand into the singer's soft one. A spark passed between them, something Kendall didn't even think was real, something that was only made up in those cheesy ass romance novels with Fabio on the cover, the ones his mom loved so much. But it happened, it was real, and he wasn't breathing again.

The singer pulled his hand back, Kendall's immediately feeling cold, James moving on down the aisle and singing once again. The blond couldn't keep his eyes off the other male, watching his every move, his lungs sawing, chest rising and falling harshly. He didn't question it anymore, didn't wonder why he was feeling that way. He just went with it.

Of course the harsh breathing would stop when James turned and looked back at him, which was often, and Kendall didn't even think to wonder if anyone would be questioning it, if anyone was wondering why the singer kept looking over at two teenage boys who were more out of place there than a granny at a Slipknot show.

James made his way around the last aisle, past the sound booth, down the other side of their section of seats. And still, he glanced over at Kendall, kept looking in his direction, kept meeting his eyes. And the blond never once looked at anything else.

The song ended, James now standing on top of the safety barrier at the end of the other aisle, near the stage once again, the security guard holding onto the waistband of his white jeans to hold him up. The crowd was screaming and cheering, thanking him for the song, wordlessly telling him what a great job he did. And Kendall found himself mindlessly clapping along.

"You guys are amazing!" the pop star sang into the mike. "I think that might be the best time I've had out in a crowd." As he said the second sentence, his eyes met Kendall's once more, the blond swallowing hard at the intensity of the stare.

"Now," the singer started, dropping his mike to catch his breath for a moment. "Now, I'm gonna grab someone and take 'em onstage, all right?"

The crowd went nuts, worse than when the show had started, only this time, Kendall didn't cringe. Amidst the cries and squeals and the begs of "Pick me! Pick me!", the blond could only stare at the pop star, finding himself hoping to be picked, not even questioning why he wanted that. But then Carlos' earlier statement in his bedroom about how James never chose a guy came back to him, disappointment flooding him.

Whatever. Kendall smeared a hand over his face again, finding himself sweating. He didn't care. He didn't even wanna be at that stupid show. Why should he give a shit that he didn't have a chance to sit on one of the two stools that had appeared on stage? Why should be want to have the singer hold his hand, rub his back, look into his eyes as he sang some cheesy fucking love song that Kendall was more than likely gonna throw up from?

He shouldn't. At all.

But he did.

No, he didn't.

Yes, he did.

No, he didn't.

_Yes, he did._

_Oh shut up, brain, the fuck do you know?_

His internal argument caused him to tear his eyes away from the singer, meaning he didn't notice the pop star climb off the railing or make his way back the way he came. So when he looked up and didn't see James where he used to be, he felt slightly panicky, heart pounding, stomach churning in fear. Until he saw the singer behind the rows of chairs, saw him walking down the aisle, heard him repeat "who should it be, who should it be, who should it be?" into the mike as he got closer. Saw him stop next to Carlos, hazel eyes locked on Kendall's green ones, smile on his face.

"What about you, blondie?" he asked with a smirk, hand outstretched towards Kendall.

The blond stood there frozen, unable to move, unable to think, definitely unable to breathe. This guy wasn't good for his lungs at all. The deafening screams faded away, his body numb, unable to even feel Carlos' fingers digging in his arm once again, shaking him as he squealed and bounced. All he could see were those hazel orbs of James' silently begging, the smirk faltering slightly.

"Dude! Go!" the small Latino smacked him upside the head, snapping him out of it.

The taller male shook his head rapidly, coming to, hand slipping into James' once more.

"All right!" the singer cheered into his mike. "Looks like I got a taker!"

The crowd screamed as the singer pulled Kendall into the aisle, leading him to the stage. The blond could feel the confused eyes on him, hear the random "what the fuck?"s, the "Oh my god"s, the "that's a _guy_ though"s. And he ignored them all. That spark was back, the tingle that was racing up his arm, spreading warmth throughout his entire body. And he never wanted it to end.

But of course, it had to. James released his hand as he climbed over the railing, Kendall doing the same, both of them using the stairs to get onto the stage. The sounds of disbelief grew louder as the cameras connected to the jumbotron showed that James had picked a male for his onstage partner, the crowd a mix of happy, confused, pissed, and upset. Kendall had a feeling he was gonna be gossip on James Diamond message boards and fanpages for a long time.

But at that moment, the teenager didn't care. James' hand was in his once more, the singer leading him over to the stools, seating him on the pop star's right as he held the mike in his left hand.

"What's your name, man?" he asked, putting the amplifying device in front of the blond's mouth.

His eyes glanced at the crowd, nerves pooling in his stomach as the reality of the situation set in. He was on stage with an internationally known pop star, the envy of thousands, maybe even millions, of teenage girls. And he hadn't even wanted this.

Sensing the younger male's unease, James leaned over, whispering in the blond's ear. "Don't look at them. Don't even think about 'em. It's just you and me right now." He tightened his grip on the other male's hand, Kendall squeezing back as a shiver raced down his spine at the elder male's voice, at the close proximity he was in, at the breath on his ear.

The singer straightened up, mike being put back in front of the blond's face as he finally answered. "Kendall."

James turned to the crowd, smile on his face. "Guys, give it up for Kendall!"

The crowd cheered, but the blond figured it was more out of respect for the singer and wanting to please him than anything to do with the male he'd invited on stage.

"All right, I wanna dedicate this next song to all the beautiful girls in the audience tonight, because you all are beautiful, no matter what anyone tells you." He paused as the audience screamed once again. "And to my new friend Kendall here," the singer shook their joined hands, turning to smirk at the blond, before facing the crowd once more. "Everybody sing along, okay?"

Another roar of the crowd, then the band started playing.

Cell phones and glowsticks were held up during the slow song, waving back and forth, like little stars in the night sky. Stars that waved back and forth anyway. Whatever, Kendall wasn't even paying them any attention. His eyes were locked on James' hazel ones, the other male singing into the mike. Their hands were still clasped on top of Kendall's knee, neither seeming to wanna let go anytime soon.

The words of the love song washed over the teenage boy, the entire world melting away til it was just him and James, til it seemed like the pop star was singing solely to him, not an arena full of people. The blond couldn't be sure, but it felt like it was the same for James, like it was the first time he'd focused so much on one person, like he'd never put as much heart or soul or passion into his singing as he was at that moment.

Kendall found himself wishing it was true, wishing the song was just for him, that the words were written about him, that the other male was singing about him. He knew that wasn't the reality of things, knew that more than likely, someone else had penned it, someone else had created the lyrics and the tune, but for a little while he allowed himself to pretend, allowed himself to get lost in the fantasy, something he never did. It felt good to let go for once, to just go with the flow and enjoy the moment, to not worry about his job or his friends or his family. All that matter was the here and now, was the hand clasped in his, the hazel eyes he was getting lost in, and the words in his ears.

And he felt like he finally understood. He finally got all those cheesy love songs—including the one he was currently being serenaded with—all those romance novels his mom read, all those poems, movies, TV shows, all that shit. He understood Valentine's Day, why people went out of their way to buy barf inducing cards, candy, stuffed animals, balloons, and flowers. He got why people celebrated anniversaries of first meetings, first dates, first everythings. He understood why people in love were so aggravating and annoying to be around, why they were so happy and peppy and cheery to the point where you wanted to beat 'em with a baseball bat.

He understood it, because he felt like he was starting to fall in love himself.

Okay, that was fucking stupid. It took more than a couple minutes to actually fall in love. But as he sat there, feeling those circles being rubbed into the back of his hand by James' thumb, saw the emotions flickering in the singer's hazel eyes—if hazel was the right color to even begin to describe them—Kendall felt as though maybe that whole "love at first sight" thing might exist. Or at least find it possible to have a connection with someone, an intense attraction that went beyond explaining, beyond understanding. You just had to accept it as what it was.

And damn him if he wasn't letting himself do just that.

But the thing that made the situation all the more intense, all the more insane, was that as he watched James sing, he could practically see the pop star experiencing the same thing. He could see the confusion in his eyes, see the intensity of that stare, feel his hand tightening during certain words about love and falling and wanting to be together no matter what. If Kendall didn't know any better, he'd say he wasn't the only one in that situation, the situation beyond being on stage as he was serenaded.

But before he could figure it out, before it went any further, the song ended, James drawing the last note out, volume low, Kendall's hand getting one last squeeze. The audience erupted, breaking Kendall out of the haze, out of the bubble he'd been in for the last four minutes, one that had included only him and James.

The singer stood up, pulling Kendall to his feet with their still joined hands. "Give it up for Kendall everyone!" he said into the mike, the audience cheering. The pop star turned to the blond, pulling him into a hug, one which Kendall—a non-hugging kinda guy—easily returned. He rested his chin on James' shoulder, only being an inch or so shorter, inhaling the other male's scent. God he smelled fucking good, even though he'd been running around onstage, dancing, working up on hell of a sweat. And his embrace was warm, loving, kind, his hands burning through the back of the teenager's t-shirt. Kendall couldn't help but slightly run his hands down James' back, feeling the muscles through the cotton of his own shirt, feeling the shudder than the singer couldn't replace, feeling the harsh intake of breath against his ear.

James pulled back, lips parted, hazel eyes cast down and looking at Kendall's lips. The blond wet them, hoping like hell the singer was gonna do what he was thinking he would.

But he didn't. The pop star simply clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a smile, telling him thanks. A security guard made his way over, leading Kendall to the side of the stage as a tech brought James a towel and bottle of water.

The blond was still in a daze as he was brought back to his seat, back to where his best friend was bouncing, huge smile on his face, eyes sparkling and dancing as always.

"_Duuuuude_!" Carlos dragged the word out as Kendall squeezed past to get to his seat. "That was _awesome_!" The Latino grabbed his friend's pale arm, shaking it violently. "I can't believe you got picked! Holy shit, dude! Do you have any idea how amazing this is?"

Kendall's green eyes were trained towards the stage, watching as James handed the towel and water back, turning to the crowd and speaking into the mike. His hips swayed as he walked, a certain charisma about him, and the blond couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Yeah," he breathed out. "Yeah, it was pretty amazing." He wasn't sure if he was referring to being on stage or the connection he'd felt with the pop star. Either way, the word didn't seem to do the moment justice.

"Man, you're the first guy he's ever brought up there. Dude, you're gonna be a _legend_!"

That brought Kendall's head around, but he didn't get a chance to respond. The next song had started up, the crowd screaming, the music booming. Turning his head back to the stage, the blond watched the show, watched the singer, not caring if he was a legend or the first of anything. All he cared about was being able to go back to that moment onstage, just the two of them, eyes locked, hands clasped, the world no longer existing.

His heart sank, his face falling as he realized it would never happen again, a slight sort of depression setting in. It was fucking stupid, but he felt like James would be the one who got away.


End file.
